“I'm going to Kansas City, Kansas City, here I come
I'm going to Kansas City, Kansas City, here I come
They got some crazy, little women there
And I'm gonna get me one.”
—Wilbert Harrison
We had driven by maybe a dozen times on our way back and forth to Colorado. Each time I’ve looked down at the late 19th and early 20th Century buildings huddled at the base of the bridge as we’ve sailed along I-70 where it crosses the Missouri River and said, “We really need to stop next time.”
This time was finaly that time.
We actually had to backtrack having gone past Kansas City the afternoon before to camp at a beautiful regional park in Lee Summit, Missouri. It was about a 15-minute drive back to downtown and to the corner of 18th and Vine which was the epicenter of the Black community in the 1920s to 1950s.
Today there are a few Jazz clubs here and the American Jazz Museum, which was our first stop in town. We spent several hours there, mostly under the tutelage of Muriel Boyd, the Docent and Volunteer Manager. She grew up in Kansas City and was a wealth of knowledge about jazz, jazz musicians the museum, and Kansas City. I listened to her speak formally and then chatted with her informally for more than an hour. There was a fascinating movie about how the town had become a center for jazz and African-American culture and how that culture had thrived in the midst of segregation and Jim Crow.
The American Jazz Museum
Then I paid homage at the exhibits dedicated to the greatest of American’s jazz musicians: Ella, Sarah, the Duke, Charlie, and Billie. The museum was small but was a wonderful tribute to America’s unique art form. Today, jazz means the best of American culture to people all over the world.
After the museum, we headed to the old downtown, where we parked at an classic style meter for 25 cents and found a place for lunch. The café had (incongruously) an Australian theme and we enjoyed somewhat unremarkable sandwiches and avocado toast. Then we found the warehouse district that I had seen from the highway and walked about the somewhat decrepit old buildings many of which were being turned into condos, stores and restaurants. I just adore that kind of architecture form the early 20th Century, the more decrepit the better, and was swooning at every turn. The icing on the cake were working railroad tracks running right though the district and we were treated to a long freight train which brought our progress to a standstill for at least 10 minutes.
Next, I searched for and found an Apple Store just 20 minutes away and we drove to it. Not because, I needed anything or even wanted to go inside but just to see another part of the city. The drive took us through modest neighborhoods and past lovely parks and communities.
Decrepitude along the tracks.
The Apple Store was, not surprisingly, in a rather swanky part of town with fancy shops and hotels. Not really my cup of tea but it was nice to see that the town is prospering.
I would have been pleased to spend more time wandering around, but alas we needed to be on our way as we wanted to make St. Louis before nightfall.
I was taken with Kansas City in a way that I haven’t been with a city for a long time. It didn’t hurt that it was a beautiful blue, spring day and was neither too hot nor too cold. There was a wonderful vibe of music, culture, old buildings, parks, and business. The city was remarkably clean and tidy and everyone we met was warm and friendly. It reminded me of Baltimore (my hometown) in its heyday and I left feeling that I needed to come back and soon to spend a few days here. Or, perhaps, the rest of my life.
